


In Between

by ravenstrange



Series: Tethered [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Missing Scenes, Tether Marks, soul marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24613003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenstrange/pseuds/ravenstrange
Summary: A collection of short snippets & in between moments that don’t fit in Tether, which I recommend reading for context!Most of these will be either ‘additional scenes’ or looking at scenes from a different point of view.Updated when I get the ideas.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Solas
Series: Tethered [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778137
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A moment taking place in Tether Chapter 3 from Ashara’s POV; Cullen walking her back to her cabin in Haven.

Cullen wasn’t someone she was expecting. Or rather, she wasn’t expecting to find comfort and conversation with someone she clashed with so brilliantly from the moment she arrived. But here he was, being the perfect gentleman, escorting her back to her cabin in Haven.

She couldn’t remember the last time anyone escorted her home. In fact, she wasn’t sure anyone ever had. Not that she could remember, but she wanted to believe that she would feel something familiar if that had happened before.

Ashara felt guilty, for wanting to spend more time with him. Then, she felt guilty for _feeling guilty_ , it was a cycle she really did not want to evaluate. But the night talking with him was the calmest she had felt since being in Haven, since the Conclave.

It helped that he was attractive, that he blushed so easily. That when she smiled towards him, he smiled back.

It created a stir in her heart, butterflies forming and fluttering about and she wasn’t sure how to react.

“Can I request something from you?” She blurted out, and made a face at how _awkward_ it had sounded. His reaction was surprise, that she seemed so formal after the night they had, and she cleared her throat.

“Always,” was his eager reply, and just the tone of his voice did something to her she couldn’t explain. Somehow, it made it easier.

“Can we meet at the lake tomorrow night? Same general time?” She wondered if she gave him whiplash in her sudden change on how she viewed him. But Redcliffe had given her time to think, and time to see what her future was. She didn’t want that future. She wanted to live in this present. To _be_ present.

It was a desire that pulled at every piece of her, to belong to something and belong to someone.

She felt like she was waiting with baited breath, as she lingered at her door, biting her lower lip gently.

“Yes, I think I can agree to that,” Cullen smiled, his eyes seemed brighter, just at the suggestion of talking again.

It made her heart soar. It also made her nervous.

“Great,” She nodded and grinned, unable to help the little bounce as she rocked back on her feet. She felt like a teenager with a crush. Maybe she was. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cullen.” She opened the door to her cabin, and looked back at him.

He bowed to her. _He bowed_. She felt the blush coming up on her cheeks, and felt as if she was holding her breath as he said, “Until tomorrow, Ashara.”

She waved goodbye and shut the door of her cabin.

Then, she waited a few minutes before peaking through the window through the curtains, to watch him walk away.

In the dark of the night, under the light of the moon, she could have sworn she saw him looking back.

Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest, and her arm burned – the sign she knew of a tether growing. She rolled up her sleeve, to see more details of the lion being etched into her skin, and she ran her fingers over it.

Oh, this was going to be trouble. But, she _liked_ trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This snippet takes place during Chapter 7 of Tether, as Cullen recovers from the incident at Adamant Fortress.

“Bring him to my quarters,” She commanded, though her voice was shaking and her emotions betrayed her.

“Inquisitor, is that—” Dorian questioned, and she nodded.

“It’s closer to the rest of Skyhold’s healers, and to you and Solas if I need you. Bringing him to his office, carring him up that ladder, it’s not good for his condition.” Ashara turned to the men carrying Cullen’s unconscious body, and she opened the door for them. They moved upstairs carefully with the Commander in their arms, and Ashara tried to clear her throat.

Tried to get anything of air into her lungs, to stop feeling like she was drowning.

She had physically been in the Fade for a _second_ time, she had the memories of the Conclave returned to her, and some surprise memories of her time in Kirkwall. She had felt what she swore was Cullen’s presence in there with her. But to come out of all of that, to find that he was unconscious, unresponsive, _poisoned_ – it was too much.

As they set back to Skyhold, to give the Commander immediate care, Ashara had taken it upon herself to find the Warden who had poisoned him. Finding him hiding out in Adamant, and she killed him without a second thought. She had not felt guilt for taking the man’s life. Not when he tried to take…

She brought herself back to the present, clearing her throat again, and felt Dorian’s hand on her shoulder. “It will be okay. _He_ will be okay.”

“Dorian,” Her voice cracks, and she looks at her friend, trying to say something else before she crumbles and he’s quick to wrap his arms around her in a hug.

He holds her, as good and true friend should, and when she stops crying, she takes a step back. He nods, “Go upstairs. I’ll work with Solas to make sure there are enough potions. We’ll come up later to help.”

He squeezes her shoulder and she nods, heading upstairs to her quarters.

She passes the solders on her way up, but she does not make eye contact with them. She knows the look on her face is one of sorrow and regret and she doesn’t need theirs to add to it.

Somehow, she tells herself, this is all her fault.

As she reaches her quarters, he’s resting on the bed. He looks like he’s sleeping. She’s never actually seen him like this, what they mean to each other is new, and they hadn’t done much other than flirt and spend time with each other.

But seeing him like this, it’s painful. Knowing he might not ever wake up if they can’t purge the poison fully from his system.

He was carefully undressed and pulled out of his armor, his shirt removed on the path to Skyhold as the healers watched over him. Now, as he was placed in on her bed, she felt like she was intruding. But she wanted to make him comfortable, while he rested. She pulled blankets to him, and as she lifted it up to cover his chest, she noticed it.

She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t noticed it at first; perhaps her mind was trying to shield her. But, on Cullen’s bare chest, was the clear mark of a tether. Starting over the heart, moving over his shoulder and down his arm, stopping at his elbow. A bluebird, in brilliant shades of blue, mixed with gold and silver. Details like she had never seen before, combined with combinations of flowers, and a starry night sky. She had never seen anything like it.

Outside of her own tether.

She rested the blanket on Cullen’s waist, watching his chest rise and fall, evidence that he was still breathing. She wanted to reach out and run her finger across the tether, but stops herself.

It doesn’t seem right, that she finds out this way. When he can’t see hers.

Ashara makes him comfortable, and settles on the couch near the bed, to keep watch and wait.

In the days that pass, Cullen has visitors of the inner circle, but of course he is not awake to greet them. They all ask the same thing: has he shown improvement, will he wake up. She gives the same answers. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know the answer to any of the questions and it bothers her. He shouldn’t be like this. Their jobs were dangerous, it wasn’t as if she was ignoring that.

But to lose him before things might have begun?

That alone might kill her.

Cole comes to visit Cullen the most. He tells Ashara what Cullen is thinking, but it is of course in riddles and mystery, and she still feels like she’s hearing things she shouldn’t hear. “He’s working through his past,” Cole tells her one day, “he wants to be worthy, but to get there he needs to feel worthy.”

“To live?”

“To love.”

Ashara wants to act as if she doesn’t understand. But she does. Her own restored memories shook her, they uprooted what she had thought and started to show a part of herself that she doesn’t recognize. She had promised Cullen, in the Fade if it was him, that she would come back to him. Now, she needed him to come back to her.

On the fourth day, Dorian and Solas are visiting, magically scanning to see how Cullen is progressing. Solas is concentrating on healing Cullen, and when he is done, he announces that the poison is out of Cullen’s system completely.

“Then why isn’t he waking up?” Ashara knows there might be bite to her words, but there are none to her voice. She is tired, she’s scared.

She’s sitting on the couch, and Solas comes to join and sits next to her. Dorian stands in front of them, though he’s watching Cullen with a thoughtful look on his face.

“It may be that his body and spirit have both gone through traumatic experiences,” Solas says, “He may just need more rest.”

“And if rest doesn’t do it? If rest, and potions, and magic doesn’t heal them, then what?” She is breaking down at the seams, and she knows it. When others visit, she maintains her posture and she maintains her cool, but when Dorian and Solas are here, she allows herself to feel. She trusts them the most, she realizes.

Ashara takes in a shaky breath, and holds her face in her hands, as she feels Solas comforting by rubbing her shoulder gently.

“Perhaps,” Dorian says, “We haven’t tried all the magic avenues.”

Ashara doesn’t look up, but feels Solas’ hand has stopped moving and he pulls it away. “Meaning what?”

“Ashara, your tether.”

She lifts her head then, as she stands back up and walks over to Cullen’s side. His chest rises and falls, but he’s fighting something. It seems like a night terror to the untrained, but the mages in the room know better. “What about my tether,” she asks quietly, as her eyes train on Cullen’s.

Dorian sighs, “Years ago, I had gotten into a bit of a scuffle on the street, outside of my family’s home. I was beat up rather badly, and Felix was the one to find me. My arm was broken, and I was bleeding far more than I wanted to. Not that any man _wants to_ , mind you. We didn’t want to go to a healer, because the healers in the area worked for my father and reports would just go back to him. Felix had this _crazy_ idea to see if our tether to each other could heal it. At the time I thought, _well it’s no crazier than time magic_ , yes? So, why not?”

Ashara looked at Dorian, and saw that Solas had risen from the couch and was listening intently to Dorian. Usually, Dorian loved the attention, but now he just seemed uncomfortable. “We both had marks on our wrists, small connections,” He said, as he rolled up his sleeve, showing a very small and faded tether mark. “We touched the tethers together and…my arm started to heal. It wasn’t a fast heal, by any means, but it had been enough to get me through the day before I could find a healer my father _didn’t_ know. Perhaps the same theory could be applied to you and our dear Commander here.”

“From the looks of his tether,” Solas said softly, “The connection he shares to you is quite strong.”

“Yes,” Dorian agreed, “Far stronger than Felix and I. It may be worth a shot. The stronger the connection…”

“The better the heal,” Ashara finished, as she looked from Dorian and Solas to Cullen. “I…thank you, Dorian. I’ll try it.”

He nodded, “Good. Come, Solas, let’s leave her be. There are some other matters I’d like to discuss with you, if you’ve the mind.”

Solas looked from Dorian to Ashara, “Inquisitor, if you need us…”

“I will call for you. I promise.” She took both of their hands into her own and squeezed them before letting go.

She waited for the sound of the door to her chambers closing before she wanted to test Dorian’s theory.

Ashara slips her shirt over and off her head, leaving her breast band. She looks to her own tether, completely covering her left arm. She hadn’t realized just how much it had grown, but she knew it had been in the last few days. If this could work, if this was…

She didn’t want to dwell, and wonder what would happen if it didn’t.

Walking around the side of the bed, she rested on top of the blankets next to Cullen, and curled up to his sleeping body. She tried to ignore just how badly she wished this was a better circumstance.

Cullen stirred, and mutters “ _the amulet is not here,”_ and goes silent, and Ashara freezes.

It’s what he says that worries her. That maybe he saw her old memory too, and that…

No. She can’t worry about saving _herself_. She’s not important.

Gently, she shifts and reaches over him, resting her arm over his tether.

She’s not sure what she expects. Maybe a glow of magic, or something, but she doesn’t see it. She does, however, feel it. It tingles on her skin, as if it’s new and fresh of a mark, as if it’s blending into his own. Her breathing is shaky, not because it hurts, but because she is scared.

Because this is the last resort.

“Please wake up,” She softly cries against him, “I came back, and you have to come back. Please.” 

He stirs slightly, but she’s not sure if it is because he is responding to her, or fighting something in his mind. She decides to keep speaking to him. “I know you were there with me. I don’t know how,” She says, speaking of the Fade, being there physically. “I know you helped me through.” She takes a deep breath, “You need… _I_ _need_ you to come back.”

He shifts again, and she looks to see his features being pulled in a way that he hadn’t done before. There is a reaction, as if it is to her _words_. To her.

“Cullen,” She says softly, “You need to come back to me.”

His eyes fly open, and he gasps hard. “Cullen!” He isn’t reacting to her yet, but she flies out of the bed, and pulls on her shirt. She bolts down the stairs, screaming for Dorian and Solas.

Cullen is awake. He is back, he came back to her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During Chapter 6: Solas POV, Fen’Harel and Ashara’s second ‘first’ meeting in the Fade. This does have some spoilers from Chapter 11.

Sharing a tent with her was dangerous. More dangerous than facing down an army of demons, or dragons dead set on taking them down. She was, without a doubt, the key to completely unraveling him. Yet, he could not, _would not_ stay away. He knew that he should. But the more he was around her, the more he desperately wanted her to remember him.

She didn’t remember their first meeting, and he was curious – had the Anchor changed her view of him? Had removing her memories changed her thoughts? It was easy to find her in the Fade, especially sharing a tent with her.

When he walked into her dream, to the tree in front of the lake, he felt a strong pain in his heart. They had spent so many years here, beneath that tree. Shared so many fights, discussions, laughter by that lake. It was always night here. A clear night sky, bright shining stars, and peaceful spirits wandering in and out.

He approached her now the same way he had twenty years ago, in his Dread Wolf form. When he met her before, she was stubborn and proud, and dared to look him in the eyes and tell him she wasn’t scared of him. He wondered if this older version of Ashara would be the same.

From his conversations with her when they were awake, she seemed afraid of Fen’Harel. A far cry from the woman he knew.

She was in the tree, and it was almost identical to their first time. But she was older now. Wiser. He knew who he was approaching, though his level of curiosity was the same.

When she opened her eyes, her tone of annoyance made him tilt his head. “Surprise, you’re real. Can I help you?” But the tone did not match her emotions. When she had been excited to meet him, to prove her worth twenty years ago, now…there was a level of fear. He watched as she moved effortlessly out of the tree and to the ground, where he was now towering over her in his Dread Wolf form.

Would she understand, if he spoke to her as he had then? “ _You’re different.”_ He finally said, in ancient Elven. His voice boomed through the Fade, a side effect of the form he took.

She was defiant, crossing her arms over her chest. HE watched her roll her eyes as she spoke back, in perfect Elven, “ _I don’t speak Elven.”_ When her immediate reaction was, with wide eyes, exclaim “ _Wait, I speak Elven?”_ his reaction was just to laugh. A honest, truthful laugh, because somewhere, deep down, this was still the Ashara he knew. This was still his Nislean'ean.

But there was a part he had to play. For once, he didn’t _want_ to play it. HE wanted to cut through the pretense, and help her remember. But that was the tricky thing about ancient spells, they had caveats. Meaning, he couldn’t give her everything back at once. He had to plant a seed, and wait for it to grow on it’s own time. He was impatient. “ _Young one, there is much you do not know.”_

_“Yeah, I get that. Is there a reason you’re here?”_

_“We knew each other. Once.”_ To hide the sadness in his tone was hard. That surprised him more than the conversation.

_“I find that hard to believe-“_

_“-before the Conclave.”_

The look of shock and confusion on her features, at the realization they _knew_ each other, though perhaps not how she was thinking, was a sight. “ _I don’t remember what happened before the Conclave. I don’t remember anything.”_

He already knew this. He had taken her memories, after all. They were never meant to go this long. They were never meant to…she was looking at him for a reply. Smoothly, he played off indifference, when he was feeling anything but. _“Shame. I quite enjoyed our time together.”_

It was no use to talk to her in this form. But he couldn’t appear to her as he was either. So he chose the form of his younger self, when he was prideful, cocky, and stubborn – qualities Ashara herself had. And perhaps, he was a sucker for the classics: this was how he had presented himself to her for so many years. Maybe he wanted to see if it would jog her memory.

Judging on the shocked look on her face, it did not. But she was looking at him with curiosity, though she still took a step back when he tried to reach for her tether on her neck. He wanted to see it, in the Fade. To see the magic flowing through it. His was growing more by the day, painful side effects he hid from her as they talked through Skyhold, or fought next to each other.

To see her falling for another man was _torture_. Though, torture he felt he might have deserved.

She claims she doesn’t fear him, that she _hates_ him, but he knows that’s not the case. He can feel her aura poking his, even if she cannot tell she’s doing it. That gesture alone makes him want to throw everything away and just pull her into his arms.

But he can’t. “You don’t hate me. You just do not understand. When you remember, you’ll know.” He was glad the mask covered his face, because he winced at his poor choice of words. Being around her was unraveling him, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could keep this up. Lying to her was…a sin he never wanted to commit.

The anger that flared in her eyes, her posture changing, told him all of this was a bad idea. But he couldn’t stay away. “No shit, if I remember, I’ll know! That is the whole point of _remembering_ , which I can’t! And now you’re here, in one of my safe places, and now I have to find a way for you to lose my scent.” Her hands dropped, and his eyes fell to them. “And, since I have this fucking _tether_ to you, I can’t!” Her anger was well placed, at this point in time.

But she had never been this angry with him before, in the years they were near each other. She was a force to be reckoned with, but he never had been on the other side of her anger. It was…enthralling. He hated himself a little bit for being attracted to it.

He turned his head towards her, “I do not want any harm to come to you. You can trust me.”

“ _Trust_ you? Do you even know who you _are_?”

“I believe I know who I am far better than you do, Bluebird.” Don’t use her real name, he had to warn himself. He shouldn’t have used the nickname at all, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.

Her reaction was strong, telling him not to call her by that name, when he couldn’t help himself from telling her just who exactly _gave her_ that name. It was maddening not to just show her who she really was. He had backed himself into a corner, one he could not get out of. And to back a beast into a corner, it was only a matter of time before he would act out.

Still she didn’t believe him. When he walked forward, she backed away until he couldn’t anymore. He needed to change this around. He needed to try to give her something.

Something that was _hers_ at one point.

Dorian’s salve was working well enough, but it wasn’t lasting as long as it should have to help her cover her mark. He tried not to be insulted that she desperately felt the need to cover what she once showed so proudly, but didn’t think twice about her lion.

He had waited years to be able to walk along side her, and instead he had pushed her into the arms of another. Selfishly, he’d blame the tether for that. Even if it might not be true.

After all, his own tether to her wasn’t a romantic connection, and yet he fell in love with her anyway.

So to think of anything else was…maddening.

“Do you trust me to teach you?” He asked, holding his hand out for her, expecting her to say no.

To both of their surprises, she had said yes.

Her hand in his, he once more found comfort behind the mask, because he was trying to hold onto the memory of what this touch was. He hadn't realized how starved for real touch he was, and though this wasn’t real in the Fade, it was close. Gently, he pushed his magic towards her; not a memory but an instruction on how to use it. If this worked, it would be as simple as breathing for her.

Exactly how it used to be.

Selfishly, he hoped it furthered things along, helped her to remember.

He had already lost so much, and he had already lost her. To lose her _again_ would be…

“What did you do to me?” Her voice was soft, and filled with wonder. Not of fear, as it had been minutes before.

He smiled.

“I returned the knowledge that you knew.”

She asked how, and he took a chance. He reached out to touch her cheek tenderly, wondering if maybe this helped trigger something. When it didn’t, he sighed. He’d explain later, but she needed to wake up. 

He woke up before her in the tent, his back still to her, but making sure to control his breathing so it appeared he was still asleep. A trick he had played on her in the Fade before, to tease her. Strange now how he used it to simply protect himself from her gaze.

He heard her shifting on her side of the tent, and sighing. There was a moment of silence, and then a small glow of light, and she muttered the words he had taught her years ago.

As she left the tent, Solas stared ahead at the fabric in front of him, but allowed himself the smallest of smiles. The smallest of victories.

She had chosen to trust that Fen’Harel, that _he,_ was telling her the truth. It was a good first step.


End file.
